


Generations Squalormander’d After Japan

by TurquoiseCake



Series: The “Let’s Fuck Davesprite” Series [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bondage, Consent, Davesprite (Homestuck) Has A Cloaca, Dildo usage, F/M, Femdom, Japanese Rope Bondage, Kinbaku, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Other, Sarcasm, Sexual Tension, Strap-Ons, birdy legs, davesprite also has legs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 09:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurquoiseCake/pseuds/TurquoiseCake
Summary: You try out Japanese rope bondage on Davesprite, tease him for a few days, and finally fuck him while he’s tied up by candlelight.





	Generations Squalormander’d After Japan

So you decide to learn the art of knot tying. Part of this is because you’re into maths and theoretical maths, and before I lose you dear reader, understand that there’s a branch of maths called “knot theory.” All sorts of interesting mathematical knot problems that you spend a little time researching in your downtime because you’re a fucking nerd. It becomes sexy the moment you start learning kinbaku, or shibari. At first you’re practicing on mannequins, or simply The Mannequin, as you only own one and you only own it because you got it from an antique shop downtown because it looked cool. Davesprite catches on and takes interest.

You don’t have to awkwardly ask him if you can practice on him, because he awkwardly asks _you_ if you would like to practice on him. Obviously you go “yea sure.”

So it’s a nice sunny day in your bedroom cluttered and cozy like a well-worked art studio and Davesprite is sitting on his knees on the bed patiently while you practice tying him up in a way that is, dare you say, _very _pretty. Today you’ve started with a simple Karada Hishi (diamond) pattern, tracing your fingers gently down his neck and middle as you tie each knot with care. It’s surprisingly more intimate than you’d thought, tying knots down his spine and handling him into the rope. He calmly lets you lie him onto his back so you can get his strange bird legs tied up, but when you get there you notice something.

His legs are not entirely human legs. With the thighs and calves shortened to compensate for the wildly elongated feet that make him walk on his toes as all digitigrade creatures and birds do, and the way his muscles have all been slightly rearranged to adjust to the twist in anatomy, you get slightly stumped for a minute or two while you try to work out the problem.

“Babe?” Davesprite eventually pipes up, sounding chill, like he isn’t tied up in plain view on your bed. “Hey, babe?”

“yeh?” You say, lifting one of his legs up to inspect the way it bends back down, mentally measuring the distance from his heel to his hip, studying that longass foot, the way his ankle looks like a second knee going backwards…

“You’ve been working on my legs for a while now, you good?”

“Uh,” you shuffle through some thoughts before coming around to his question and processing an answer, “yea just figuring out how to compensate for your weird bird legs.”

“Cool.” He says, and drops his head back. Shit. Maybe he’s sensitive about that.

“Hey man your legs are awesome and honestly this is kinda fun trying to figure out how to effectively tie them in a way that’s pretty.” You stroke his shin and kiss his knee for emphasis.

“What?” He lifts his head up the best he can to try and give you a quizzical look, “I never said…”

“Just,” you kiss his knee again while thinking of what to say to make it seem like you’re not insecure about him being insecure, because god what a mess that would be, “felt like complimenting you. You’re very pretty, by the way.”

He huffs a tiny laugh and drops his head again. “Thanks.”

You smile and go back to figuring out his legs. “Imma pull up the youtube video again,” you let him know as you reach for the laptop and do just that. So now you’ve got some weird old guy teaching you his long-mastered skill of tying knots with his aged wrinkly old hands in the background while you touch your boyfriend in all sorts of illegal ways. Nice. “You still good?” You check, leaning around his legs to see his face.

“Good as two shoes yo.” He says. It seems like he feels comfortable enough still fully clothed with his shades on, and, if you’re reading the tiny subtext of his voice and expression right, having fun. The old guy on YouTube in the background has started going on about something you don’t care about so you close the video and pull up a different one on tying legs and elbows. It’s fun to experiment and think outside the box to get him all tied up right, and once you’ve got it you sit back to admire your work on him. Your eyes wander along all the red chord and how it wraps so nicely around his lovely figure. Davesprite blushes, his wings unfurl and he spreads his legs.

“Well?” He asks you with a tone of terribly cool cockiness, he must see the way you’re looking at him. He knows he looks good, the fucker.

“Yea,” you say after a pause, “this is hella. Do you think you’d be up for letting me practice on you again sometime?”

“Sure but we’re not even finished with this time why’re we already thinking about next time.” He adjusts the way he’s laying on the bed so he’s more comfortable, and in doing so arches his back, rolls his body a bit, oh dear.

“Well,” you clear your throat and shut the laptop, “I think I could do better, and also I can’t take off your clothes when I’ve strategically tied them to your body.”

“Fair enough.” He rolls his shoulders, tests his range of movement within the ropes. “So when do you think you’re gonna be taking these off?”

“Whenever you want them off, hon.” You give him a little smile and put the laptop away.

“Well in that case,” he grunts with the effort of sitting up, “I wouldn’t mind you leaving them on for just a little longer, just to uh,” he finds sitting up too difficult and flops back down onto the bed, adjusts his wings under him. “Just to test out how they feel and stuff.”

“I see,” you crawl up to gently sit astride his hips and adore the way he fights back a persistent smile. “How would you like to go about testing?” You purr.

“Oh my god are we gonna fuck or not.”

“Your romantic flourish never ceases to make me swoon, Shakespeare.”

Davesprite turns his head to the side to stifle a laugh at the wall with his eyes shut, and you take the opportunity to kiss his cheek. A little shifting around while seated firmly on his hips doesn’t hurt either, you kind of hope he feels the friction through his shorts. He does. A smile joins a blush on his face as you follow up the little cheek kiss with a trilogy across his jaw, down his neck, into the ruff of feathers over his collarbones. “Alright, hey,” He makes an effort to say, “this is good, I’m having fun. There are no objections to doing this again sometime. You got me.”

You sit up to smile at him. For a few sweet moments, you share some easy eye contact, smiling gently at each other, admiring each other’s faces. Soon after, you go down and begin mercilessly tickling him, to which he responds by wheezing “fUCK YOU” through reluctant laughter.

Untying him was nearly just as weirdly fun and intimate as tying him, you found, and afterwards the two of you enjoyed a merry long makeout marathon and then some good getting back to your jobs and studies. A few days pass, you get him back in your bedroom to practice again with the ropes and the kinbaku. This time you try a new pattern, something a little more challenging, and figure out how to tie his wings to his back with his arms and his legs up underneath him as he sits on his knees. He also graced you with showing up shirtless, but that was the only article of clothing missing. Every light touch as you tie him seems to affect him, and he’s squirming slightly by the time you’ve finished, a bit worked up as told by how his heart beats hard and fast under your hands.

He’s got a pattern of diamonds tied in a neat vertical row over his lower stomach, navel, and sternum, and you kiss between the ropes up to his neck and finish at his mouth, where you kiss him till he can’t form a coherent sentence. Hands in his hair, you messy him up till he’s blushing and panting and his lips are a bit swollen, but it stops there. Once again you casually untie him, although it’s a little difficult to stay casual when it starts to feel so intimate, and go back to typical daily life. He looks at you like he was maybe expecting something he didn’t get.

Saturday rolls around and he’s caught you practicing the ropes on the mannequin in your spare time in all the days prior, he seems like he’s slowly getting worked up. He’s a little tense, fidgets more, eats less. Only slightly, but it’s enough to notice. You haven’t had sex in a couple weeks, you’re starting to hate how you’re starting to enjoy the tension building. Davesprite chokes on his dinner when you casually ask if he’d like to let you practice your karada hishi based pattern on him again, but after some water and clearing his throat he says “yea sure.”

You gather the dishes up for the two of you since it’s Saturday, and smile when you see him taking off his shirt out of the corner of your eye while you run the sink.

“Hey,” He says, casual, but a little rushed, “I’m gonna go ahead and head up to your room, meet me there when you’re done alright?”

“Alright.” You smile, not turning around to look at him.

He’s there like he promised, but when you open the door you find him sitting naked on your bed, biting his lip and looking up at you like how an edgy teenage girl looks up at her mom when she says something unhip. The lovely crimson cord is wrapped around his hands, he’s toying with it idly while waiting. Oh, he’s ready. You have a feeling he’ll throw a small fit if you don’t fuck this time, which makes you smile and saunter up to the bed.

“Ready?” You ask cheerily, and you can see in his eyes that he knows you know how worked up he’s getting and he both hates and loves you for it.

He raises his eyebrows at you. The eyebrows stay and the silence hangs until you break and giggle and take the rope from him. It surprises you a little when he assumes just the position you need him in and even poses a little, making himself look graceful. With the wings, the faintly luminescent eyes, the way the soft yellow light of your bedside lamp illuminates and silhouettes him in the dark of the room, the everything, he looks… magical.

“You look magical,” you say in a hushed tone, and he instantly doubles over and wheezes. “Oh shut up it’s not that corny.” Your tone switches to ‘fuck you’ just as fast as his posture did.

Davesprite sighs and sits back up, re-arches his back and re-settles his wings behind him. He bats his eyelashes at you and says, in the worst mock-girly voice you’ve ever heard, “you look magical~”

You laugh and lightly shove him, “fuck you,”

“I dare you to.” He grins, instantly retaliating, and you have to blink and stand up straight for a moment to process.

“...alright,” you smile slowly, tightening the rope in your hands, “you’re on.”

Thus begins the ropening. Some candles are lit and set on the nightstand, and their lovely soft glow flickers light across his skin. A record plays to fill the silence, the perfect music to get sensually lost in. He stays still for you while you gently begin tying the ropes in place, securing him one step at a time, down his middle, down his spine, around his sides. Your hands lightly brushing over him raises goosebumps on his arms, your steady, warm breath on the back of his neck between tiny kisses makes him shiver. The amount of trust he places in you to let you do this to him makes your heart flutter when you think about it, how he has no doubt that you won’t hurt him, calmly giving himself to you to tie up and restrain.

His arms are secured behind him, wings trussed up on his back, and his legs tied neatly to make him sit on his knees. Knot by knot, dreadfully slow, you finish your work of art with a final tie and a kiss on his shoulder. You back up to admire it, and the sight sparks a delicious ache in your core. There’s a storm brewing in his eyes, you can’t wait to get in and drink it down whole. A blush paints his cheeks, but his shades obscure his lovely face, so you pluck them off his nose and set them aside happily when he doesn’t protest. Now, calmly, you slide off the bed and slowly undress while he’s left to sit and watch, until you’ve taken off everything and are happy to crawl back up and kiss his face. He shuts his eyes and lets you move, you whisper asking for his consent.

“Yea,” He says, just as hushed, like you’re trying not to wake something. “Yea you’ve got it. The consent is yours, you are the hoarder of all my consent. It is you.”

You smile and kiss his cheek, his jaw, his lips. He tilts his head to the side for you to make it easier, opens right up, hot and wet. There’s a rhythm to this kind of kissing, with one of your hands on the back of his head and the other around his waist. You move up against him in a string of not one but many unbroken kisses like a baseline that has many notes in a sequence but never goes completely quiet between them. It’s easy to tell this is all really doing it for him when he squirms just to feel the ropes hold him in place, kisses you back a bit more vigorously, and huffs a tiny sound into your mouth that probably wasn’t intentional.

Slowly you let him down onto his back, let him adjust so it’s comfortable, and resume making out as before. With his hands behind his lower back and his heels bound to his upper thighs, you’ve got a nice little space to crawl up between his legs and kiss him down into the pillow. He sighs, a syrupy kind of sigh that’s thick with something a bit heady. You can feel his muscles twitch when you run your hands lightly up across his skin, over the ropes, like he’s getting hyper-sensitive to every touch.

“mmph,” He says when you grind your hip into his crotch.

He’s panting by the time you break away to catch your breath and kiss down his neck, and his head lolls back while his eyes stay shut. The sweet spots on his neck often get marked with hickies, but it’s been a while, so you have to feel around to find them again, kissing till you find a spot that makes him suck in a breath a bit sharply, or shudder, or moan. The hickies are soon replaced and replenished from when they’d faded. He swallows hard as you slide your hand down his chest, over his upper thigh, back around to his cooch. You continue sucking on his neck while your hand teases him, his eyes flutter.

Then your kisses wander down to his chest, down his navel, along his adorable little treasure trail of downy feathers, onto his thigh. Davesprite huffs, makes a small whine when you bite the soft flesh of the insides of his upper thighs, one then the other. The rope sits so nicely across his hips, you trace your fingers under it along the cord, across his skin, following it down to where it wraps between his legs. He shivers. Gently you part the rope with your fingers, push it to the side, and press a sweet little trail of kisses down the outside of his cloaca. A cute little surprised peep escapes him when you slide your tongue in and lick firmly across him.

You can feel his muscles tense, so you pet them soothingly with your hands and whisper for him to relax with your lips against his inner thigh. The sound of him taking long, deep breaths let’s you know he’s trying to calm down, but you can still feel his rapid pulse beneath your fingers and under your tongue. He’s wet, devilishly so, you hardly have to work at all to slide in some fingers and lick between them. His muscles twitch when you do, he swallows hard and keeps his eyes shut tight, squirms a little in the ropes. By the time you’ve worked your way up to sucking hard on his cooch his breathing is labored, soft breathless noises seeping their way into his voice.

Panting, he has to break to swallow, and then resumes a little faster when you speed up your movements, reaching your fingers in to rub a little bundle of nerves and running your tongue in between them. He squirms again, goes “aah,” softly, so you put your free hand under his back to help him arch his spine, taking some weight off his bound arms and wings. It’s incredible how you can feel him get wetter when you touch him gently like that, stroking your thumb in little circles over his skin. The sensation must be building up, because his little noises are getting louder, raising into moans, his eyebrows creased up and toes curled.

He tries to say something, breathless and barely coherent, sputtering, “babe, shit, I’m, hha,” he swallows, goes “nnhhaa, ah!” Shivers at something you did with your tongue, and finally manages to say “I’m, I’m close,” getting high pitched as he resolves to somewhat frantically panting your name, voice soft and quiet, going tense as you redouble your efforts. A long, drawn out shaky cry leaves him as he comes under your tongue, to which you smile on his junk and drink some of it down till he’s whimpering quietly. You sit up and look at him, wiping your mouth with a cheeky grin as you look at him laid out flushed and panting.

He looks up at you with bright wet eyes, eyebrows still scrunched up a bit, watching you crawl up to kiss him deeply. You swallow his moan, feel him relax underneath you. Making him taste himself is always a bit fun, and your lips are still a little swollen and sensitive from eating him out, so this kiss feels fantastic. Loose and flustered from his first orgasm, he opens easy for you, and leaves his eyes shut when you break the kiss and back up to look at him, admire his face. When he finally opens his eyes to see you staring, his blush darkens, which makes you smile. Sitting back up on your heels, you take a moment to mentally capture the way he looks here, face and cooch flushed and wet, bright and sensitive.

The ropes sit so nicely on him, accentuating all his lovely curves and lean muscles, you have to catalogue all of it to sit in your mind forever. The longer you look the more flustered he seems to get, till he breaks into an awkward smile and a small shuddery laugh. He says your name like a question, catching your attention. “You uh, you good up there?”

“Ah,” You snap back to reality and rub the back of your neck, “yea, just. You look hella sexy. Gotta remember this, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow and lowers his tone to something sultry, regaining his bravado, “you won’t have to remember too well, we can do this again any time.”

You blush and chuckle, kiss his knee, bite your lip as you look at him. “Wanna go again?” You ask.

“Yea,” He says, and wriggles a little. “Yea I could go again. Now?”

“Hell yea.”

“Hell yea.” He echoes.

So you pull the strap on out of the drawer and equip it while he watches, biting his lip with heavy eyelids. You slick it up with lube and rub it up against him between the ropes, smile when he drops his head back onto the pillow and whimpers. A steady rhythm settles in the movement of your hips, he struggles to move his in time with yours, so you put a hand under his back again to help him out. He cooes and makes a deep, inhuman rattling sound in his throat as you grind the dildo against him, not going in just yet. It really gets to you how gorgeous he is like this, unrestrained yet tied up in restraints, loose and wonderfully horny in that way that gets all the way down to the bones and makes you feel drunk.

He moans softly to the side, hiding his face in his shoulder when you sink the toy into him, letting it slide all the way in. You take a deep breath, roll your shoulders, try to keep your head on straight as you prepare to fuck him into next week. Not wasting any time, you get right to thrusting in at a steady but fast pace, relishing the bright blush that rises to his face and spreads down his neck as he bites his lip and tries and fails to stifle a caw. The dildo reaches deep into him and hits a spot that makes him gasp and shudder, blurting out a lovely series of moans that go “ah, ah, ah, ah! Ah, AH!” With each thrust, building up gradually louder into harsh caws.

You mutter something to the effect of how gorgeous he sounds as you grind your clit into the harness with each thrust, steadying yourself with hands on his hips tracing the ropes with your fingers. Davesprite gets worked up to writhing against the ropes under you, shattered and spilling out. Grabbing his legs by the lower thigh under the knee, you push his legs up enough to lift his hips to give you a clear angle with which to fuck him full force, which has the affect of making him cry a long loud lovely sound as you hit him repeatedly right where he loves it.

The noises he makes get to you more than you’d like to admit, making the warm pool of sensation at the pit of your stomach burn a bit brighter. It builds up in you as you grind into him, tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter, and looking at him looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, hands tied away behind his back, flushed and panting… You’re done. You come with a small, shaky smile, biting your lip and letting your head fall to the side, moaning in the back of your throat as it comes over you in pulses. Of course, you keep fucking him, you’re not _really_ done, and if you’re any judge, Davesprite is getting close.

He’s shuddering with ecstasy, head fallen back and panting open mouthed, cawing on every other thrust, occasionally moaning thick and sweet. Wetness slides out of his cooch, which is flushed and swollen, he’s beautifully turned the hell on and you need to make him lose his mind like it’s your addiction. He orgasms with a long lovely moan, seems to be entirely lost to you for about twenty seconds, and then starts whimpering, begging incoherently for you to fuck him. So you swallow and keep the pace, screwing him past the aftershocks and into a second, somehow stronger orgasm than the one he just had. His voice wavers off into soft little noises, overwhelmed and shaking.

For a few long moments you slow down and catch your breath, watching the way he spasms in little twitches around the dildo as you pull out, over sensitive and practically glowing with his strangely colored blush and jizz. Neon orange has never been this easy on the eyes. He lies there breathing heavy and limp, whining softly for you to come back after you sit back and take off the strap-on. You lie back down next to him and stroke his face, kissing him sweetly and admiring the warm flicker of melting candle light across his features. Slowly you begin untying him, softly touching him to be comforting as you undo the ropes one knot at a time.

He seems to unwind in time with the ropes as you undo them, relaxing and calming down. Pulling the cords free, moving back up his spine as you’d moved down it to tie them, he watches you work through eyes that are heavy with sleepiness, a faint blush remaining on his cheeks. The ropes slacken as he does, letting you move him with no resistance. When the final knot is undone and taken off from over his head like a necklace, he sighs, reaches for you weakly, and you smile. You lean over to blow out the candles before you turn back to snuggle deep into his warm arms, kiss his forehead, and tuck his head safely under your cheek.

Sleep settles over the room and sedates you in it’s heavy comfort, the blanket you pull over you both smothering you in a world of softness and warmth. It’s so comfortable and sweet, you feel like a spell has been cast over you, entranced by some dark magic that is as beautiful as it is loving. Davesprite is so cute in his sleep, so relaxed and clinging to you loosely, breathing slow and cooing so softly you nearly have to hold your breath to hear it. You soon follow suit, surrendering to sleep, out like a light. Your dreams are peaceful, and you rest better than you have in weeks. Outside, a gentle warm night rain starts to fall.


End file.
